Page 46 of Fuse

To the places where he opens unseen parts of me. Where he awakens brilliant vistas in me. Where he penetrates until I’m shaking and writhing and sighing and out of my mind with yearning for him. Craving more and more of him…

“Everywhere.” My turn to say it, though I’m shameless about bypassing his poeticism and going right for a lusty plea. And judging by the erotic hunger across his face, that’s exactly where the man wants me. He confirms that truth with the probing persistence of his fingers, a force of three digits now, and he’s shifted one hand to my hipbone in order to brace me harder and invade me by thrusting those digits deeper.

“Yes!” I arch into him, receiving all of it—and yet still reaching for more.

“Mmmm.” His insolent rumble takes over his whole chest, taunting perfect tingles at my erect breasts. “Someone likes me inside her.”

“If that someone is me, then you’re right.” I shoot for a seductive drawl, but desire turns my voice to impatience. In a rush, I claw my hands into the base of his neck. Matching my ferocity with a sabretooth rumble, he pulls them back down, forming my fingers around the black zipper at the neckline of his jacket.

“Everywhere?” The sabretooth keeps prowling his voice, still in maddening control, even as I pull down and release the steel zipper teeth from their traps. But by the time I’ve finished snicking the zipper free, rougher breaths conquer his lungs and his nipples are as hard as styluses.

I reach up, fascinated with their erect glory. “Yes,” I whisper. “Everywhere.”

He groans like a torture victim holding back way too long on a scream. And maybe, after today, that’s exactly how he feels. But chunk by chunk, he’s coming back to me, and if I leave this canyon walking a little funny…well, everyone has to sacrifice for the cause in some way…

“Everywhere.” The renewed quicksilver in his stare shows that he hasn’t ruled out that possibility either—especially as he breaches my channel with a fourth finger and starts thrusting relentlessly. As I answer him with pumping gasps and a sprinting pulse, he growls with such primeval satisfaction that nearby critters scatter, already acknowledging the force we’re building, the brilliant pinnacle to which we’re reaching.

Beautiful.

It’s already so damn beautiful.

He’s already so…

“Beautiful.” I all but sob it as he rears up, his magnificent form outlined by starlight and moonglow, and rips the snaps of his leathers loose—fully freeing his cock. Without wasting another second, he lowers the pants even farther, releasing his balls too.

In all their engorged, glowing glory.

“Fuck.” It’s more a glug from his throat than an utterance on his lips, not surprising since he’s sucking in breaths as fast and urgently as me. His chest, carved and glorious, pumps in and out from the force of them. His thighs, muscular and massive, flex and roll in time to them.

“Oh, dear hell.” My declaration isn’t exactly sweet and gentle either. I reach up with just as much passion, going straight for his proverbial jugular—in the form of palming his mesmerizing length. The moment I wrap my grip around him, he swells even bigger and his veins flare even brighter. “You’re perfect, Reece.”

To my shock, he grimaces. “You’re just saying that because you have a kinky thing for Smurfs, Miss Crist.”

“I’m saying that because it’s true.” I stroke every inch of him, glorying in the heat and energy of him. “But you really are my favorite Smurf.”

The line tempts him into at least half a smile, which only makes my heart trip all over itself again. He thinks I’m joking, but I’ve never been more serious—though I could compose entire sonnets that wouldn’t do justice to the man’s sheer physical beauty, especially the magnificence of what he possesses between his thighs. Even without the electro-biology, he’s a creation the angels must have been sobbing to give to humanity. I silently thank them while squeezing, kneading, and savoring the sculpted girth in my hold, unable to stop myself…needing to connect to him like this.

No heroes tonight.

Just us.

Just this.

More than ever, he just needs to let me do this for him.

“Shit.” And though he does, he grits his jaw hard enough to rival the cliffs around us for rugged beauty. Its brutal strength is outlined in flashes of blue that sneak into the space between us as I continue working him from balls to crown and back again. Up and down, up and down, I massage him without shame, alternating with twists of both hands, soon chomping the inside of my lip as his tip spurts with the glowing cream that helps with heated lubrication—and my growing fascination.

“So perfect.” I’m on the verge of sounding trite at this point, but it’s the only word that fits—before I’m incapable of words at all.

No. Words.

It happens right after I wick a couple of the luminous blue drops off the tip of his cock and then trace them over the X centered on my left nipple. At once, my breast becomes nothing but astounding fire, searing arousal, and consuming lightning. It sharpens my nipple into a white-hot point and shoots sizzling spikes of heat throughout my whole chest.

Oh, my God.

I’ve never experienced anything like this.

With eager speed, I repeat the action for my right swell. I gasp and then groan. It feels even better with both breasts. So damn good…